


Dance to Forget

by Calesvol



Category: Girls Next Door (Webcomic), Labyrinth (1986), Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Multiple Crossovers, Pika La Cynique, School Dances, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Sarah and Jareth never did get to make up for that dance her university was hosting. Here, they get to make up for it in relative peace.





	Dance to Forget

**Author's Note:**

> If it isn't obvious enough, I only ship Sareth as they exist in Pika la Cynique's Girls Next Door and the manga sequel, Return to Labyrinth. I don't ship them as they appear in the original movie for personal reasons.

Warning(s): G, none

* * *

Sometimes, it wasn’t unreasonable to feel as though Sarah Williams’ life deserved a season recap. After all, how did she describe the last few years? Going from childhood antagonist with the Goblin King and then his girlfriend several years later probably felt too quick to them. What was it, a year and a half? Two?

Regardless, there’d always be critics. People outside of the loop who’d criticize and say she forgave the man who was supposed to be her mortal enemy far, far too quickly.

Looking at you, Harry Dresden, Erik, Norrington, Raoul, and so on! Even if their fears weren’t totally unfounded if not completely coming from people used to the egotistical, pervy, stalker-y, immortal and magical—sometimes not—who comprised a unique kind of peanut gallery.

AKA, friends she was grateful for. The kind of conscience on her shoulder Jiminy Cricket could be jealous of. No one turned to wood here, no sir!

“Ow, careful, Chris,” Sarah hissed when Christina Daae gave an excited twist to her chocolate brown locks, having been brought into a casual up-do. Nothing that would give the impression of being a try-hard. Not easy to pull off given her somewhat recent history of rises made by a certain smug blond fae who enjoyed those kinds of reactions from her. “Not that it doesn’t look good, just…ow.”

Christine smiled sheepishly as she let fall the rest of the loose ends at Sarah’s nape, curling that which couldn’t be brought into the loose bun Sarah now sported. “Sorry, Sar! At least you look good enough for GK, huh?” the blonde prodded while admiring her own handiwork for her roommate. With good cause, too.

“Not that I owe it to that ass to look my best or anything,” Sarah groused beneath her breath, intensely scrutinizing her own reflection with a pout. It always was a game of tug of war with Jareth, and in this case, she’d earned major, _major_ concessions this time around when Jareth had overtly announced their nascent romantic relationship to everyone and their mother in their apartment complex and beyond—via a highly publicized snogging, no less! Meaning, this date to make up for Dresden’s sudden interruption of their last one per questioning Jareth what had happened between Christine and Jareth after the masque wasn’t like it was a strike to her benefit in the tallies between them.

Just that _he_ owed her a dance. Lucky her the dance seminar hosted by the drama club she was part of wasn’t a single night affair.

“Alright, all done! Promise me you’ll give me and Lizzy a total play-by, Sarah? Pleeeease,” the prima donna pleaded, all sweet-eyed and innocent. Easy to see through. Even if Erik was still completely weak to it despite dating Mags nowadays.

Sarah managed to crack an amused smile. “Alright, but you guys are paying for the booze, regardless of whether or not Lizzy’s swashbuckling friends decide to come gatecrashing or not.” That was fair. Jack Sparrow was one hell of a sneaky guy where reserves or rum were reserved.

The doorbell rang. Sarah felt her heart leap in anticipation and excitement alike.

“Why hello, Miss Daae. Might Sarah be around?” came Jareth’s usual flowery greeting. Not that it wasn’t a comfort to her these days. Not that she’d admit it, so forget that! He was still paying even for the pervy bubble-spy-crystals and Erik’s ingenious but equally perverted rats with mounted cameras.

“She’s right here, Your Majesty,” Christine chirped as she shepherded Sarah into the apartment foyer, pleased to show off her handiwork. “Have fun, you two! I’m going to be spending the night with Raoul, so _bon voyage_!” Small reason for her excitement. Ever since Jareth had granted her the crystal passage between one of the apartment closets and Raoul’s Paris residence as concession for the ballroom mishaps, of course she’d been over the moon. Anything if it meant being closer to her fiancé.

“Ah, _merci_ Miss Daae. Happy travels, and all that.” It was an attempt at French, but points for trying. When her roommate finally vacated the premises, the hallway closet awash in an aftermath of glitter, it left Sarah leaning against the door’s threshold thoughtfully.

“So…” she began, glancing at Jareth speculatively, “I don’t suppose you’ll have any magical engagements keeping us from tonight’s date, or anything, do you?” It didn’t hurt to ask. Sarah’s arms were folded, studying Jareth inquiringly.

Jareth, in all his modern, understated aesthetics, seemed to internally flinch at the implications she was addressing. More of a deep sigh and pinching of the bridge of his nose, than anything. “Oh, of course, precious. I don’t suppose any of your friends have anything in mind? As much as I deeply tire with their interference…”

“To be fair, you’re not out of the limelight just yet, GK. Keep proving yourself, and maybe people’ll relent.”

This caused Jareth’s enthusiasm to sag somewhat. “And is it truly their business at all, Sarah? I understand… _past_ events have embroiled them, true, but some affairs I might wish to keep between us. Is that truly so difficult to ask?”

Sarah gazed at him quizzically. Was she dreaming? Did the resident exhibitionist fae really want to keep things between them private? “Y’know, people would be more inclined to honor your wishes if you didn’t turn almost every little thing between us into a publicity stunt, Jareth.”

“I am aware, Sarah, however—aren’t your ilk the sort to have a…certain amount of publicity during dates? Such as our tango to come. Surely you won’t think of that as something exhibitionist.” Steps, baby steps. In mediating between differences between the fae and human, there had to be bits and pieces, she knew that now. Even if Sarah felt endlessly frustrated by concepts that should’ve been easily grasped, it was a start. Well, not a start, but somewhere far along the road they’d been traversing together.

“No, so long as you try and keep it that way. And Jareth? Try not to be too handsy. The last thing we need is people staring and me screeching indignantly, as I have every right to.”

Things had become unfairly tense between them, she knew. With everything going on, the ball having been an epoch of it all, what they had felt lazy and easy. Compared to what was, what could come, she didn’t want to think that far ahead in fear of jinxing them somehow.

Them. It was a powerful realization, but—Jareth loved her. How could she just turn her back to him and what was between them so readily? Regardless of all those past jealousies and the hell he’d put her through.

Forgiveness was hard. The guilty admitting to such was harder.

When they finally arrived on campus, an easier air settled over them. Members alike of the Wibsy and KISS clubs were congregated near a punch bowl and table saddled with many refreshments while the university orchestra was noisily tuning their instruments. Javert hawkishly watched from one of the gymnasium corners while Aziraphale and Crowley occupied their own shadowy corner, the demon inclining his sunglasses in a smug form of greeting.

Jareth and Sarah were still the hottest new item amid the complex, after all. Of course, the others would still hold a vested interest in their day-to-day.

God knew Christine was the leader of that pack.

As the announcer addressed the gathered crowd, Jareth turned to Sarah, taking one of her hands and gracing it with a delicate kiss. “Sarah, might you honor with me this dance? To make up for our last date, and all that rot.”

She had to admit, he was a peerless gentleman when he wanted to be. “I’d be honored to, Jareth,” Sarah simpered, feeling like her younger self. Feeling like that girl still enamored with fantasy and acting and escapism much like her own mother, Linda, was.

“Oh, Sarah,” Jareth said with a wolfish grin, “surely you cannot conceive of my being content with blending in as you like. If this is tango, we shall treat it as such.” A shiver trailed her spine, and by his smirk, the brunette could swear his satisfaction only grew.

“You’d better not get too _handsy_ , Jareth,” Sarah hissed under her breath with a furious fluster, trying to swallow it down. “Like I said before we came.”

As true to his word as a pervy and possessive Goblin King could be, he kept his hands where it was somewhat socially acceptable—as could be where tango was concerned. Truth be told, Sarah soon forgot her inhibitions she was sure to browbeat herself for later in a way that she was swept into his ministrations and intense, mismatched gaze in a form and fashion.

Was this what it’d be like, she idly wondered. The sudden remembrance of his dire threat and fringing, villainous instincts harked to what Christine had gone through welled within her mind. Sure, he wasn’t crowding her space or snarling at any male attention directed her way, but that was because there wasn’t anyone else.

_My will is as strong as yours, my kingdom just as great._

Those words beat in her mind like as a second heartbeat as Jareth dipped her dramatically, recalling all those Celtic fairytales her Irish grandmother used to tell her through her mother, Linda. How the fairies could use gratitude and those foolish enough to step into fairy rings against you.

Was this what it was like? To be taken by that legendary Unseelie Court as Jareth had both threatened and promised time and time again.

When the first set was finally concluded, Sarah had to blink away whatever bedazzlement she’d been capsized under and felt herself hauled back up after a dance number she should’ve had no business knowing, but the ineffable trickle of fairy magic seemed to diffuse from her bones like the passing of midnight.

Was this it? Had her glass slipper already shattered?

“…Whoa,” was all she could bring herself to say, blinking and breathing hard. “Did we really do that piecemeal?”

“Denying your natural talent as always, beloved,” Jareth said with a growing smile, “as much as you deny your natural latency for magic.”

Sarah scoffed and extricated herself from Jareth’s arms, huffing softly. “Admit it: I have two left feet and you used magic to make me more coordinated. You don’t have to flatter me, Jareth.”

Jareth’s pointed, dark brows bounced up in surprise. “Do you really think that’s what it is, precious? Just something of my doing? Why, I’m hurt,” he said with a faint smile, enigmatic. Sarah couldn’t tell if it was some admission of truth or not.

Part of her wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.

“…I’m going to go get us some punch. Wait here.”

“But of course, Sarah. I shan’t move a muscle,” he said with that same smile, she unwilling to look at it. From fear? Uncertainty.

For once, even she wasn’t really sure. As conflicted as her feelings for him always were.


End file.
